


It's No Good

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, Blood, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Jim is not what he seems, M/M, Mentions of Beastiality, Modern Era, Rough Sex, Strange Love, War, no actual beastiality, werewolf!Ross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 18:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12086709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: Ross can feel the end coming. Then he meets Jim.





	1. The Wolf with The Red Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teigh/gifts).



> Just a little something to say very happy belated birthday to Teigh. The other thing is coming, but this wouldn't shut up at me and I hope you like it :D Thank you for being you!!!
> 
> Title from It's No Good by Depeche Mode.

The first time they meet, Ross is patrolling his territory. 

This stretch of outer city is more industry than anything else, warehouses and open stretches of land littered with cigarette butts and used condoms crowding the streets. Ross appreciates it though, knowing that it provides his pack with some sense of isolation. They live in a converted warehouse right in the middle of industrial central, him and his pack, and they live lives that have been mainly mundane for the most part. 

Until this year.

Suddenly things changed. There are more supernaturals running around and Ross can’t help but wonder if humans can feel the same thing they do – that this is the end coming for all of them. He’s never been one for religion but some days things feel just a little too biblical for his liking. 

Then there are the hunters. They are human for the most part, fanatics who would think nothing of killing any supernatural that is unlucky enough to fall into their clutches. Ross’ parents warned him of them when he was a child, and now he keeps an eye out for them at all times. This year alone, he’s heard of two packs that have been wiped out by them. It’s another reason his family lays low.

He can feel something in the air though, just like the Phil Collins song says. It makes his skin crawl and keeps him looking behind him into the shadows. Ross knows there are far bigger and badder things out there than an alpha wolf, but he squares his shoulders and keeps walking. 

The first hint he gets is a sense of being watched. Ross’ senses are far superior to those of a human and he feels the prickle on the back of his neck and turns. He can just make out the shadow seated in top of the skip at the back door of the warehouse he’s walking past. 

There’s a flare as the person lights a cigarette, but Ross doesn’t hear the click of a lighter or the sound of a striking match. It’s an odd little detail that will make sense later on. For now, all it does is briefly illuminate the person who is watching him and Ross catches a glimpse of light eyes and a dimpled smile. 

He thinks at first that it is one of the homeless that occasionally seeks refuge in this area, but there is something about the way they uncurl and drop soundlessly from the skip to the ground that puts Ross instantly on alert. The person straightens up and Ross sees grubby jeans and chucks that are dirty and frayed, a red hoodie with questionable stains. The young man (he can smell him) chuckles low in his chest but doesn’t push the hoodie back to reveal his face. 

‘Isn’t it late out?’ he asks and there’s sardonic humour under the youthfulness of his voice. ‘Even for the big bad wolf?’

That throws Ross on the back foot and before he knows it, he’s growling at this interloper, realising now that he doesn’t smell anything like a human should. 

‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’ He doesn’t bother to bite back the threat in his words.

‘Just taking in the sights.’ the young man laughs, sauntering past Ross and out the other end of the alley. Ross turns after a moment, now getting his head back together enough to chase off the potential threat only to find the alleyway empty. 

That just angered him enough that he went out and killed the first stray cat he came across and then spent the rest of the day hating himself. 

***********

The next time they met was when Ross was on his knees, hands bound behind his back by chains forged with silver in them and a leather collar steeped in a tincture of wolfsbane around his neck. They burned his skin into blisters and welts, making him snarl and try to shift but being unable to. It hurt so badly, the pain making him lose control of everything that made him even slightly human. 

Behind him his pack were caged, snarling in pain and fright. He could smell the blood on them, the blood on himself from the wounds they had received in trying to protect their home and each other. He can hear Elizabeth howling her grief, knows that if he glances to the side he will see Francis still lying there in a heap. They had killed his cousin because Francis would not back down, willing to fight to the death to protect his mate and their cub. Ross can only hope they have put Geoffrey in the cage with his mother. 

There are so many of them, and they have come armed. They outnumber his pack three to one and now they are standing around and watching him and his pack, their smug self-congratulatory smiles making Ross sick to his stomach. He bares his fangs and snarls at them, knowing it is a hopeless situation but wanting to go down fighting. 

That’s when he hears the sound.

It sounds like something metallic being dragged across the concrete floor and it turns out that’s exactly what it is. The hunters turn as one, staring at the young man walking into their midst as calmly as if he’d been invited. Ross looks up and he knows who it is. He growls and gets a cattle prod in the side for good measure. He manages to keep his eyes open though, and he sees better in the dim light of the naked bulbs overhead. 

The young man is dressed the same as he was the night Ross encountered him. This time though there is a recent addition of a dirty bandage wrapped around one hand, the smell of old blood assaulting Ross’ nostrils. The other holds a baseball bat, the old school wooden kind, and even from here Ross can see the maroon blotches that had soaked into the wood. There is a nine inch nail hammered through the end and the young man hefts it casually and holds it against his shoulder. There is a glint of teeth as he smiles, and now Ross can see they are definitely too sharp and too white to be human. He smells off too, a strange stink under the grime and blood. 

‘Who the fuck are you?’ This comes from the burly man who leads this group of hunters. 

The smile widens and Ross can see the insanity in it. It sends a shiver down his spine that screams arousal, even in his physically compromised state, and he takes a second to think about just how wrong that is before the young man laughs. 

It makes Ross’ stomach turn. 

‘I’ve come for them.’ the young man says, full of arrogant self-assurance. He lifts a hand and points at Ross. ‘That’s my wolf now.’

Ross just about has the werewithall to feel somewhat insulted before the burly man raises his crossbow and aims it right at the young man’s face. 

‘I don’t know who you are, but you need to get the fuck out of here before we put you down, son.’ he sneers, and that makes smell pour off the young man in waves. It is so strong it fills Ross’ senses and makes him feel almost drunk from the headiness of it. He can’t pin it down, but to him it smells like breeding and fighting and killing and he wants to roll around in the smell, let it sink into his fur. 

It makes him want to belong to the young man its emanating from.

‘See.’ The young man speaks again and now there is a low dangerous note in his voice. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

He moves too fast for even Ross to track, and the bat swings and the burly man’s face is staved in. The young man doesn’t stop there, oh no. Even though the man is clearly dead from the first blow, he keeps hitting until there is nothing but a pulpy mass of blood and brains and shattered bone staining his dirty chucks.

He stops and now he lifts the hand with the bandage and shoves his hoodie back and Ross has a second to take in how exquisitely beautiful his face is and how the stark light makes his hair shine like gold before he raises the bat and just throws himself at the rest of the hunters. 

It’s carnage. 

It’s also beyond arousing and Ross strains at his binds, wanting nothing more than to be able to shift properly and join him, tearing with teeth and claws and biting out throats. The screams finally die down and there is the metallic sound as the bat is dragged across the floor again, now accompanied by the wet sound of chucks squelching through blood and guts and there isn’t a single hunter left alive. 

The young man stops in front of him and kneels down to Ross’ level. The eyes that had looked light to him now reveal themselves to be black and shiny, devoid of anything resembling humanity. They look at each other and Ross allows his own eyes to turn red, growling as the young man lifts his hand and gently pets him. 

‘Good wolf.’ he says. 

**********

The third time they meet is also the first time they fuck. 

Ross is not expecting to see the young man again. He’s on the roof of the warehouse, staring at the night sky and contemplating further improvements to their new lair. 

The pack has recovered a little since the attack, although the cubs still have nightmares. They are down below him, sleeping and trying to gain back some of the normality they so desperately need to carry on. 

Ross smells him before he sees him and he doesn’t hear him at all. 

‘You look better.’ The young man is smiling.

‘Thanks to you.’ Ross replies, because he has at least some manners. 

‘Hunters are wankers.’ There’s that terrifying smile again. ‘Killing them is practically a public service.’ He comes to where Ross is leaning against the electrical box and hops up, feet dangling. ‘Is your pack all right?’

‘As well as can be expected.’ Ross feels the tightness in his chest, the pain that losing a family member has caused. 

‘Good.’ The young man takes out a pack of cigarettes and places one to his lips. As Ross watches, it ignites by itself. 

‘Nice trick.’ he remarks and there’s a chuckle. 

‘You’re not afraid of me.’ the young man says. 

‘You saved me and my pack.’ Ross replies. ‘I’m trusting that it means you have no ill intentions.’

‘I might though.’ Now he can clearly see dimples and if the young man is what he suspects he is, then that must be the most contradictory thing to have. 

‘Then I suggest you get on with them.’ Ross’ lip curls as he snarls just a little. ‘I am running out of patience.’

‘Why does that not surprise me?’ The young man smiles and leans over. 

The kiss takes Ross completely by surprise and before he knows it, he’s turning round and standing between the young man’s legs with his claws out and pricking through the jeans under his hands as he runs both hands up the young man’s thighs and they kiss until Ross is dizzy with it. The kisses are sharp bloody things with bitten lips and fangs and it feels so good that Ross drowns himself in them, only pulling back to snarl when he feels ragged nails scratch gouges into his neck and under his shirt, his eyes glowing red. 

‘Fuck.’ The young mans’ breath is scorching Ross’ skin, his hands scrabbling to get Ross’ shirt over his head before dragging his fingers through the thick pelt of hair on Ross’ chest. ‘I want your cock in me now.’

Ross is more than happy to oblige, turning him around and throwing him over the electrical box while he attacks his belt and jeans. He gets them down to mid-thigh, noting with brief amusement that there is no underwear to deal with, and drops to his knees to hold the young man open and eat him out relentlessly until they are both panting and Ross is ripping holes in the young man’s jeans as he sticks his tongue in as far as it will go. The tastes of sweat and unwashed skin are like heaven and he growls against the young man’s skin and licks him open until his face is wet and he can get two fingers in, stretching and teasing until he gets up and shoves down his own jeans to get his cock out. 

The first drive in is tighter than he normally likes, but the man in front of him only hisses in pleasure and takes it. Ross catches him around the throat and pulls him back into himself, the claws on his other hand digging into soft skin at the young man’s hip, drawing bloody tracks across his pale skin. They move together like they are made for each other, and it’s so good Ross loses control of himself. He throws his head back and howls into the night, his hips driving in brutally hard until he comes and his knot fills up the willing ass that’s taking his cock. Most humans would not survive this assault intact, but this is not a human. 

Ross actually realises that this time he has no clue who or what he’s fucking.

He wraps his claws around the young man’s cock and jerks him off as he rides the aftershocks of his orgasm. The come that coats his fingers when the young man climaxes is boiling hot and smells like sulphur. 

It takes them half an hour to separate and then the young man pulls his jeans up and redoes his belt. 

‘Later.’ he says and jumps off the edge of the roof. It’s three storeys to the ground and when Ross goes to look over the edge, he’s gone.

********

His name is Jim Hawkins. At least that’s what it says on his driver’s license. 

He won’t tell Ross his real name because real names are power for his kind. 

This is now a regular thing, or as regular as it can be with Jim. He comes and goes as he pleases, and Ross never knows when he’s going to turn up. He arrived the night before with shredded knuckles and his nose streaming blood because the only thing Jim likes almost as much as killing and fucking is getting into fights. 

Ross cleaned him up, knowing that the bruises won’t last too long. Jim heals faster than he does. 

He’s now passed out in Ross’ bed, face down and snoring into the mattress. The sheet is low enough on his naked body that Ross can see the dimples just above his ass. There’s a tattoo between his shoulder blades that Ross doesn’t recognise. The symbol appears to be occult but it also has the odd habit of shifting so it never looks quite the same each time you look at it. 

Ross dearly wants to know more about him, but Jim is notoriously secretive. Ross knows he’s old, has seen his wings and guessed that it’s more a question of millennia than centuries. The wings only come out when Jim is asleep, his guard down, and now they are folded against his back. At first he was surprised, but now Ross knows what the smoky black feathers mean, their lustre gone so they look like they are made from dirty velvet. He’s so beautiful like that he makes Ross’ heart stop for just a moment. 

There’s a reason they are called fallen angels. 

He smiles to himself and pads across to the kitchen area. He has the whole top floor of the warehouse to himself. The rest of the pack are terrified of Jim and avoid him at all costs. It sometimes makes Ross wonder what it says about him that he’s opened his bed and his heart to Jim. He opens the fridge and takes out bacon, starts making breakfast. 

The smells of frying bacon soon has Jim lifting his head and smiling at him in that adorably sleepy way of his that he has after he’s spent the night taking Ross’ cock up his ass. 

‘Morning.’ It comes out rough and Ross’ heart turns over. 

‘Morning.’ he replies and makes up Jim’s sandwich, making sure to add extra hot sauce and mayo. There’s also a half bottle of cola that he takes over to the bed as well, knowing Jim will drink it right out the bottle. 

Jim sits up, hands held out like a child. He smiles with delight when presented with food, no matter what it is that Ross makes for him. He feeds Jim whenever he can, although he suspects that Jim scavenges. There’s times when he comes crawling into Ross’ bed with the taste of dead things in his mouth. It makes the wolf inside him growl and bite Jim’s lip until it bleeds, licking it up and watching how Jim smiles at him with blood between his teeth. 

It was like that the night before and Ross flashes back to Jim in his lap, his arms and legs wrapped around Ross as he rode his cock, slow and deep with his head tipped back and his pants loud in Ross’ ears. Now he’s awake and eating, licking at the mess of sauce between his fingers like the savage thing he is. 

‘How long will you stay?’ Ross asks, leaning over to tuck a stray golden curl behind one ear. Jim shrugs and it make his wings shiver. The sound of his feathers rubbing against each other is like the sound of dead leaves rustling in long forgotten tombs.

‘I don’t know.’ he replies. ‘They’re coming.’

That settles like lead in Ross’ stomach. The end is nigh as they say. 

Jim sees his discomfort and takes Ross’ face in his hands, kissing him gently. 

‘I’ll be back before it comes.’ he whispers and Ross smiles against his mouth. He takes hold of his angel and moves them back down onto the bed, Jim’s mouth and legs opening for him to take what he wants. 

Ross wants to know everything. He wants to know what the world was like when Jim fell, what it will be like after Jim has taken to the battle field with his flaming sword and his earthly disguise abandoned. 

He has never shown Ross his infernal form, telling him that he’s saving that for the day when Ross dies and Jim takes him down to hell with him to be by his side forever. 

Ross thinks he’d like that very much.


	2. The Boy With The Black Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes on...

Ross piles the boxes into the back of the battered blue truck he calls his and slams the back door closed. Dwight and George are already in the front, no doubt bickering as they tend to do. For alphas, they are surprisingly relaxed and it makes living together that much easier. 

It’s been three months since Ross last saw Jim and two since the other alphas joined their packs with his as a safeguard against what may or may not be coming in the future, citing safety in numbers. It made sense to Ross and so there are now three families all living in the warehouse and it feels strangely right. It’s also turned out to be a good thing for Elizabeth. She and George have mated, George’s own mate having been killed in a raid not six months before and around the same time Francis was. They are healing each other in their shared grief and Ross is happy to see them smiling again. It’s a far better situation than he could have offered her, apart from breeding her himself. Elizabeth had been willing but he had not, yet another sign that he now belongs lock stock and barrel to someone else.

Someone who has been gone for three months without a word. 

Ross knows it’s stupid to worry, but he can’t help himself. Jim’s last visit had seen him full of tension, restive and watching the sky. That, along with the fact that half the world is underwater and the other half is on fire is not a good sign at all and clear even that even Ross can read it. So he paces and stands on the roof and worries about his fallen angel and what he might be doing. Jim had left him with a biting kiss and then shouldered his bat before he spread his wings and took off into the cold morning light. It’s the first and only time Ross has seen him fly and he dare not think that it might be the last. 

They get back to the warehouse and the pack comes down to help unload the car. Ross smells it the instant he gets out, nostrils flaring and he looks up towards the ceiling. Verity sees him doing it and nods, her dark eyes concerned. 

‘He’s back.’ It’s all she says. 

Ross knows full well the pack doesn’t approve of Jim. They don’t trust him and he makes them afraid in ways he doesn’t with Ross. They can’t understand the attachment they have forged to one another and Ross is never in a mood to explain why it’s happened. He can’t really articulate what they are to each other, the way his heart is now speeding up at the waft of sulpher and blood that is carried down the stairs to him. Any sane person would not be able to comprehend it. 

The pack has tried to sway him. There is a pretty young omega from Dwight’s pack called Demelza. She has bright blue eyes and copper curls and if it had been a different place and time, Ross would have taken her as his mate. He’s had to let her down gently though, and she has retreated. It’s clear who his heart belongs to.

He stays as long as is needed to help pack things away, taking his own groceries and heading up the stairs as quickly as he can, his heart now thumping out of time as Jim’s scent grows stronger. It’s like a siren call to Ross, leading him to hell straight by the nose. He gets to the door and slides it open, stopping when he sees the spectacle in front of him.

Jim’s brought company. Not only that, but one sniff tells Ross they are the same as him. This is an interesting development. 

They are on the sofa, watching Jeremy Kyle and snickering as they demolish what looks like an extra large order from Chicken Cottage. In all their time together, Ross has never seen Jim eat anything other than junk food and it would seem all of his kind are the same. They all look up at him and he sees that their eyes are black. 

He doesn’t want to know. 

‘Hi.’ He walks right past them and goes to the kitchen area, dumping everything on the counter. He hears Jim whispering behind him and then turns to see the other two getting up. They tip him a little wave, shouldering their own weapons – one hockey stick wrapped in duct tape and scribbled on with sharpie and one vintage cricket bat – and head for the roof stairs. 

Jim wanders over to him. He’s shirtless and barefoot and Ross wonders if it’s because his clothing is beyond repair or in the washing machine downstairs. He looks awful, his pale skin mottled with bruises that are fading from purple to green across his collar bones and chest and there are deep shadows under his eyes and a scab where his split lip has healed over. The blue in his eyes is not so bright today and Ross knows he’s been on the frontline. If that’s the case he can forgive him for hanging out with his friends here for a little while. 

‘I bought food.’ It’s said in a soft voice, an unopened box held out to Ross like a votive offering and he smiles as he takes it. In the background he can hear the swoop and rush of huge wings overhead. 

‘They’re like you.’ he says and Jim’s nose crinkles. 

‘Not exactly like me.’ he replies.

‘There’s a distinction?’ Ross grins at him. Jim realises he’s being teased and there’s a flash of sharp teeth. 

‘Actually there is.’ he retorts. ‘Quite a big one.’ He rubs his eyes, and Ross can smell his fatigue and the fact that Jim probably hasn’t washed in days. 

‘Where were you?’ He asks the question without much hope of an answer but to his surprise, Jim tells him.

‘Battle.’ He scratches at the bloodstained bandages wrapped around his ribs. 

That makes Ross shiver and not in a good way. It frightens him to think there is something out there strong enough to hurt Jim this badly and at the same time angers him, his protective instinct wanting to take his mate to their bed and curl around him and never let him go. Jim seems to catch this thought (he’s eerily good at reading the wolf inside Ross) and his smile comes out, dimpled and sunny in spite of his injuries. 

He comes to stand toe to toe with Ross, a good half head shorter without his shoes on, and looks up at him. He reaches up and Ross goes to him, arms around Jim as he pulls him close. He sticks his nose in Jim’s neck, scenting him, and Jim tilts his head away to give him better access. The scenting changes to a kiss, soft to avoid opening the cut on his lip. Ross feels himself relax as their tongues tangle in a leisurely dance and he can feel that Jim is feeling the same way, going pliant against him. 

They pull apart and Jim breathes against his mouth.

‘Take me to bed.’ His eyes are pleading and Ross picks him up in his arms and carries him there. He lays Jim down and sheds his clothes, shifting and then jumping on the bed to lie next to him, Jim’s fingers buried in Ross’ fur and his breathing evening out in record time as he crashes. Ross licks his scabbed lip and whines softly. 

They go to sleep like that, breathing in each other’s air.

********

The angels come back later. This time they bring pizza and ice cream.

Jim introduces them as Tag and Mickey and Ross notices that they are beautiful the way Jim is, like they might make you lose your mind if you stared at them for too long. Mickey has hair the colour of blood and her face reminds Ross of the way one might describe a nuclear detonation as breath-taking. Her voice is like edged blades clashing, her every move carefully calculated. Jim tells him later that she is like him, one of the Powers, except she never fell.

Ross is curious about the fact that they seem to be working to a common cause. 

‘I thought you were on opposite sides?’ he asks. ‘Fall of Lucifer and all that.’

‘God is dead and so is the Devil.’ Jim tells him. ‘There are far older things that are coming.’ He won’t elaborate and Ross is left having unsettling thoughts about HP Lovecraft stories.

‘What about him?’ He nods at Tag and Jim smiles. 

‘He’s a good guy.’ he says. ‘Just don’t piss him off.’

Tag is soft-eyed and soft-spoken and looks like he should be spending the afternoon round his nan to help her clear out her loft rather than fight the things that are waiting to consume the world. His cricket bat is a Duncan Fearnley and that make Ross laugh for some unknown reason. Jim tells him later that Tag is one of the Seraphim and technically outranks both him and Mickey. 

Now Ross is intrigued and Jim sighs and looks at them both, nodding. The angels glance at each other and look back at Jim.

‘Just fucking show him.’ he says and they transform at the same time, their wings appearing. Tag’s are exquisite, massive and white, everything an angel’s wings should be. Mickey’s are sleeker, bronze and amber feathers in bands making them look like a hawk’s. 

Ross looks at Jim and smiles. 

‘I like yours better.’ he says. 

They hang out, the angels sitting on the floor playing GTA and Jim on the sofa. Ross has shifted and he is lying curled around him while Jim strokes his ears and scratches his ruff. On the floor Tag and Mickey swear at each other and try to shove each other over to make them lose their concentration. 

Ross finds it amusing that the celestial beings he learned about in RE are basically just juiced up adolescents. All three of them barely look out of their teens and they are all dressed the same way in their scruffy jeans and hoodies (It turns out that Jim’s was in the wash. Ross thinks they’ve gotten most of the bloodstains out). At one point a spat breaks out and there is a lot of kicking, biting and dead legging going on, with Jim rolling off the sofa to get involved. All three of them fight dirty and it’s slightly ridiculous to think they are responsible for holding the end of the world at bay when they are squabbling like overgrown children.

Jim eventually chucks them out just after midnight.

‘Go on, fuck off then.’ He’s prodding the back of Tag’s neck with his toes from his position on the couch. ‘I need to get knotted and I’m not doing that with you in the fucking room.’

‘Fine.’ Tag huffs and gets to his feet, pulling Mickey up after him. They give Ross a pair of wicked smiles. ‘Make sure you fuck him properly. He gets grumpy when he’s away from you too long.’

That makes Ross stupidly happy to hear. 

‘Tossers.’ Jim smiles as they go upstairs, his fingers finding that spot on Ross’ rump that makes his back leg twitch like a dog’s. His tongue lolls out as he is scratched and he chuffs in Jim’s face because it makes him smile. ‘Silly wolf.’ 

Sometimes they fuck like this, with Ross still in his fur. He can smell the excitement seeping out of Jim’s every pore when they do, the way he screams when Ross licks him open and bites the back of his neck hard enough to draw blood, fucking him with Jim’s knees spread like a bitch in heat and his wings open to shadow the bed. 

Tonight though he doesn’t want that. He wants to be skin on skin with Jim and he shifts back. Jim smiles at him, dimples caving in as he holds out his arms. 

Ross moves to cover him, his cock already getting hard. It takes very little encouragement from Jim to do so, the very smell of him enough to get Ross off some days. He moves so he is blanketing Jim’s body with his own and strokes back the matted blond curls. 

‘I missed you.’ He growls it low and soft and sees Jim’s eyes sparkle. 

‘I missed you too.’ he replies and pulls Ross down to him, his mouth opening easily for Ross to take control. The kiss is lingering and wet, both of them getting in deep and holding on tightly. Jim licks along Ross’ lower lip and sucks on his tongue when he can get hold of it. He’s making breathy little moans and Ross smiles against his mouth and rolls his hips once, changing the moans to something more animal. His cock is wet, smearing Jim’s jeans with slick, and he can smell how Jim is responding. His blood-stink is now strong enough to make a human gag, but Ross is a wolf and he wants it. He bites down on Jim’s shoulder and feels Jim rake his nails down his bare back. It’s always like this with them, the violence of their true natures coming out. 

Ross moves down further, mapping out collar bones and sternum. He tastes the dried blood on Jim’s bandages and sucks on one nipple until Jims’ hands are in his hair, pulling hard enough for his scalp to burn. He changes to a deliberate tease, using his tongue to work it until it stiffens and then biting just hard enough to make his angel cry out. 

‘Fuck.’ Jim’s voice is broken. ‘Yes… just like that.’

He’s squirming underneath Ross’ mouth, his eyes black. Ross growls at him, letting the wolf out to play and seeing the reflection of the red glow. He ruts down against him and Jim swears and grabs his ass, pulling him hard against him while he hikes his legs up on Ross’ hips. 

Ross takes the opportunity to bite him hard on the neck, knowing he’s just adding to the bruises. He doesn’t care though, this one will be his and show his claim. 

‘Mine.’ he growls in Jim’s ear and Jim laughs, light and as close to happy as he ever gets. 

There’s a brief wrestling match to get his jeans off and then Ross slides off the sofa onto his knees. Jim moves to sit up, legs spread, and Ross licks along his cock, taking his time and pinning Jim in place with his claws. Jim is panting hard, his hands guiding Ross’ head and his fingers tangled in Ross’ hair. 

Ross smiles up at him, fangs out, and Jim returns it. It’s probably a mark of how far Ross is that he now finds it enchanting rather than disturbing, but then Jim has changed him in ways that he can’t even begin to fathom. He leans in, scenting where Jim smells strongest. The taste of him is electric on Ross’ tongue, like licking the end of a corroded battery, and Ross drags his tongue over the head of Jim’s cock, growling deep in his throat when Jim hisses at him. He wets his fingers, the half-shift making his saliva thick and slippery, and works them in, twisting without deference because he knows Jim gets off on the pain.

He is feral now, panting and snarling as Ross works him from the inside and Ross knows just how to push him further. He takes Jim in his mouth, letting the tips of his fangs trace over delicate skin and Jim makes an inhuman sound that sends heat flaring through Ross’ chest. He growls a warning and Jim throws his head back as Ross takes him all the way in, bucking up into his mouth as Ross inhales through his nose and swallows around him while he drills him with his fingers. Jim’s come burns his tongue, the same way a scalding mouthful of liquid might, but he doesn’t let him go until Jim’s screams loud enough to shatter several windows, his body shuddering his way through his orgasm and beyond. 

Only then does Ross pull off and ease his fingers out, hauling Jim’s thighs over his shoulders and spitting directly onto his skin before licking at him. Jim’s skin is hot, the hellfire inside him leaching out as he grips Ross’ head between his thighs like a vice. He’s speaking in a language that Ross doesn’t understand, but it sounds like he really doesn’t want to. He finally loses patience, pulling Jim off of him and manhandling him around so Jim is on his knees, hands dug into the arm of the sofa with his ass presented to Ross. 

It’s how Ross likes him and he growls as he moves to kneel behind him. It’s simplicity itself to guide himself in, his own spit easing the way. Jim’s body stretches obscenely around his cock, and Ross leans forward to lick up Jim’s spine. He can feel bones shifting under his tongue and he thrusts in deep. This is not a gentle fuck, it never is with them, but Jim can more than take it. 

His fingernails are ripping holes in the fabric of the sofa and Ross gets him by the shoulders so he can drive in hard, the sound of their bodies impacting drowned out by the noises they are making. He feels his claws pierce Jim’s skin, smells Jim’s blood as it drips off his skin onto the seat below him. 

Jim is moving into him, pushing back into every thrust and whining as he takes it deep. Ross drags his claws down his back to take him by the hips and watches himself moving in and out, the slide of his cock hypnotic. They don’t speak. Here there is no room for words and neither of them can articulate this hellfire that consumes them both. It’s like they are being flayed alive by this feeling between them. 

It takes an eternity and yet it takes only seconds. Ross wishes he could stop time right now, just stay like this forever. He curls himself over Jim’s body, biting into the back of his neck and setting his teeth and Jim rears back into him, both of them coming together. Ross feels the base of his cock swell, his knot setting in and holding fast. He keeps going, every surge of come inside Jim laying claim to him. 

‘Come on, you fucking animal.’ Jim sounds unhinged. ‘Don’t fucking stop.’ His blood is in Ross’ mouth, his come all over the sofa. He releases Jim from his bite and licks at the open wound. 

‘The fucking sofa is wrecked.’ he growls, rolling his hips so his knot presses in directly on Jim’s prostate. ‘You’re getting me a new one.’ 

Jim laughs, head down and riding Ross’ knot like he was born to do it. 

By the time Ross is able to pull out, there’s hole the size of a two pound coin eaten into the fabric and he snorts with laughter as he gets to his feet and watches as thick trails of his semen slide down the inside of Jim’s thighs. 

‘Fucking wolf.’ Jim grumbles as he gets up and follows him to the bathroom. ‘I feel like I’ve got a litre of come up my ass.’

‘You probably do.’ Ross grins, catching his mate in his arms and licking his neck, tasting blood and sweat. ‘Can angels get pregnant?’

‘You better fucking hope not.’ Jim snorts. He wrestles out of Ross' grip and starts the shower and Ross crowds in behind him, getting water on the floor as he sticks his head under the spray and shakes. Of course the slips-slide of water doesn’t help matters much and they fuck up against the side of the shower before they finally manage to get out. 

They make it to bed, although Ross gets summarily dispatched for the last of the ice cream. Jim’s now sitting up, dressed in one of Ross' t-shirts that's so loose on him it slips off one lovely bruised shoulder, the gashes from Ross' claws already healing as he watches a re-run of Constantine and eats mint choc-chip from the tub with a table spoon. Ross is at the foot end, stretched out in his fur and sighing every now and then while Jim rubs his back with his feet. 

He wonders what price he’ll have to pay for loving his fallen angel. 

Whatever it is, it could never be too high.


	3. It's The End of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It comes for them all.

Ross hates to admit it but the end of the world is nothing short of spectacular. 

It starts on a mid-week afternoon, when the world is going about its business and completely unprepared for the sky to split apart at the seams and for the oceans to boil as the things that have lain dormant in space and time wake up and decide that they are out for blood. 

In the end, nothing matters.

Mankind is on an extinction track and the only thing keeping Ross still alive is a stubborn as fuck fallen angel who saves him repeatedly because, as Jim puts it, why the fuck not.

Ross’ pack is long dead, all of them crushed under a collapsed building. He never got to say goodbye because he was ousted from his position as their alpha by George several months before. At the time, Ross had understood why. He wasn’t what they wanted. He wasn’t committed anymore. All he lived for was the sound of wings bringing Jim back to him. 

They wake up that morning in the Premier Inn just outside Glasgow, Jim’s eyes black and his teeth sharp. Ross can smell him, the blood-stink rich in his nose. 

‘It’s going to happen today.’ Jim tells him and he lies back down. 

‘When?’ he asks, now resigned to his inevitable demise. Jim looks down at him from where he’s propped up on one elbow. 

‘Later.’ He leans down and licks over Ross’ mouth. ‘We have time to fuck and get breakfast.’

So they do. 

**********

Ross has lost track of time now. He used to try and keep a tally of the days as they passed, but he and Jim move around too much and the days bleed into one another. 

The things that have taken their world come at night so they sleep and travel during the day and fight to stay alive when the sun goes down. There are others - supernaturals and angels and those few hardy humans who display the persistence of cockroaches in their will to exist.

Jim is walking next to him, his red hoodie and baseball bat marking him out from the others they patrol with. Ross is in his fur. Being a wolf has significant advantages when you’re running for your life during the apocalypse. Surviving is getting more and more difficult. There are so many things that can kill them out here amid the devastation. 

He scavenges in this form, the wolf being far less picky about what it eats. There are new creatures that litter the earth, misshapen mutated things that came out when their masters took to the land and began their destruction. Murks are the most numerous. Ross calls them murks because they remind him of a long watched film from his childhood that gave him nightmares until his first real shift and his mother smiled and pointed out that the wolf in that story had killed the murks and now he was a wolf too. 

Ross thinks about her a lot, about all his family. 

Jim stills in front of him and Ross trots over. The others gently take the piss, calling them a boy and his dog. It doesn’t mean anything and later they’ll get their own back by fucking within earshot and then seeing those same people not being able to look at them the next day. 

They are where Manchester used to be. Now it’s rubble and festering remnants of canals and buildings. The humans left here have turned cannibalistic so they are on their guard. One of the other wolves with them got her paw caught in a snare just the day before. It wasn’t a serious wound thankfully, and the others had licked it for her to heal it. There are seven of them in this group, all alphas. Betas and Omegas have not made it through. 

Ross stands next to Jim and looks up at him, whining in query.

‘There.’ Jim points the bat at a building that looks more intact than the others and they start picking their way through towards it. They’ll stay there tonight, waiting for the onslaught that always comes. The sound of wings overhead makes them all look up and Ross wags his tail when he sees who it is. 

Mickey touches down the same way Jim does, lightly and with barely a sound. She folds her wings and comes towards them. Her warm brown eyes are tired, dull. It’s been more difficult for those angels that never fell. They have not endured the suffering that Jim has, not seen the torment he’s been overseeing since he went to hell. It drove Tag mad and they have not seen him since the day he threw off his earthly form and ascended to battle three of the things that came from the sky. Ross knows that Jim and Mickey both think he’s dead. He has no idea what to think because he’d always thought angels were immortal. 

It turns out they’re not.

‘There’s another group of people about seven miles away.’ Mickey says by way of greeting. 

‘Locals?’ Jim asks and she nods. 

‘Looks like they caught someone.’ she says. ‘They were eating.’ She drops to her knees and Ross goes to her, chuffing softly and licking her dirty face. He’s come to be very fond of her, and she of him.

‘We need to dig in.’ This is from Harry. He’s the one the humans have appointed their leader and used to be SAS before the end. He’s a fountain of knowledge, leading them to bunkers and caches which have kept them alive far longer than they should have managed. He’s a tall man with a kind face, his automatic weapon cradled in his arms like a child as he looks at Jim and Mickey. ‘Perimeter sweep.’

Jim nods and shivers as his wings unfold. He has no qualms about revealing himself now. Nobody does. Ross watches, never failing to be awed by the sight. Stretched to their fullest, Jim’s wings are twelve feet across from tip to tip and in the sunlight they have a slight gleam like those of a raven. He flutters them so the feathers rustle before mimicking Mickey’s actions and ruffling Ross’ fur.

‘I’ll be back.’ he promises, just like he does every time he leaves Ross’ side. Ross nuzzles his face and wheezes softly so Jim knows that he loves him. 

He watches Jim get up and then he and Mickey launch themselves into the air once more, their wings catching the updrafts and taking them out of sight quickly. 

The group moves on.

*********

They spend the afternoon in the building. It turns out to be a converted warehouse and Ross is utterly delighted when he slinks through a hole in a collapsed wall and finds an actual bed. It’s covered in plaster dust and smells musty but there is plenty of comfort to be had still and he immediately jumps on and curls up after denning for a moment, closing his eyes and tucking his tail around himself. 

He wakes to a gentle hand in his fur and growls softly in greeting when Jim lies down next to him, blinking at him sleepily when Jim scratches his ear. He can smell blood on Jim’s clothing and skin, knowing that the group Mickey had pointed out to them earlier has now been despatched. It seems madness to be killing their own kind, but cannibals are feral and a danger to them so it is best to be on the safe side. 

Ross shifts and Jim curls up against him, his hands warm and rough on Ross’ bare skin. They kiss slowly, letting their mouths linger. This is a luxury they never take for granted and this amount of privacy is rare. Ross has gotten well used to fucking Jim standing up, taking him wherever they can steal a moment to themselves. 

He strokes Jim’s face and runs his thumb along his bottom lip and Jim smiles at him and playfully catches Ross’ thumb between his teeth, giving him a growl that sounds pathetically adorable to his wolf ears. Jim does try to copy his now-preferred method of communication, but he’s an angel not a wolf and so it comes out sounding like a cub’s growls. It stirs protectiveness inside Ross and he bites the side of Jim’s neck, nosing back the red hood so he can inhales his smell. 

Jim sighs into his shoulder and Ross moves one thigh between Jim’s legs, pressing up to feel how he’s getting hard. His hands move, unzipping the hoodie and easing it off Jim’s shoulders, pulling him over onto him so he can shove the t-shirt underneath over Jim’s head. 

Jim moves, kicking off his chucks and socks and lifting his hips for Ross to drag his jeans down. Now naked he moves to sit astride Ross, his head dipping and his wings unfolding in all their terrible beauty. 

Ross stares up at him, running his hands up Jim’s arms to rest at the sides of his neck. Jim is still the most exquisite thing he’s ever set eyes on, even like this with his pale skin smeared in blood and dirt and unspeakable things. He rolls his hips, his own cock now hard and sliding over Jim’s backside and they move like that for a while, neither of them rushing.

Jim drops down to kiss him, his mouth warm and soft. Ross licks over his tongue and draws him in and they moan together. They explore and taste like it’s the first and last time they will have for this, knowing that when the night comes they might lose each other for good. 

Ross turns them over and now Jim is on his back, wings spread beneath him as he opens his legs and lets Ross mouth down his neck to his collar bones. Ross takes his time, licking pale lines into Jim’s skin until it burns his tongue. He bites softly at the ridge of bone, hears Jim whimper in pleasure, and then goes further. He tongues Jim’s nipples until he gets an impatient huff, placing one clawed hand on Jim’s stomach to hold him in place while he keeps doing it. They are stiff and wet with his spit when he lifts his head and Jim snarls at him, black seeping in at the edges of his eyes. 

Ross leaves them with a kiss to both, and moves down Jim’s chest to his stomach. His rubs his stubble against Jim’s soft skin, getting his smell on him. He licks out Jim’s navel and feels a suppressed laugh go through him, then maps the trails of dark gold hair down to Jim’s cock. It’s leaking onto his skin and Ross laps the slick up in feather-light touches. Jim’s hand in is in his hair, tugging lightly and making him shiver. 

He licks Jim’s cock, feeling the shudders it causes as he uses his tongue to bring him closer to the edge. He is drooling copiously, the wolf inside him moving to the surface, and Ross scrapes it off and uses it to ease the passage of his fingers down and in. Jim arches off the bed when his body is breached and Ross smiles against his hip, biting at the bone there. He moves down the bed, Jim’s legs now over his shoulders as he licks, torturously slow. Jim tastes better here than he does anywhere else, the salt and carrion smell he carries stronger. He circles and teases until his fingers go in easily and Ross rubs over Jim’s prostate, making his angel give up and fall back on the bed, panting in harsh little breaths.

He waits until he feels Jim start to bear down around his fingers and then gets up, coming to kneel over him while he fucks his own hand. The benefit of spending most of his time as a wolf now is his improved strength and stamina and he comes across Jim’s belly, white streaks that gleam in the light. His cock stays hard and Ross will be able to come again in a few moments so he takes the opportunity to rub his come into Jim’s skin and then lick up the excess. 

Jim’s eyes are glazed over when Ross finally comes down to him. He hikes his legs up high on Ross’ hips and Ross pushes in, feeling Jim’s body open around his cock as easily as it did for his fingers. He’s scorching inside, and Ross settles onto him as he bottoms out. Their mouths are an inch apart and he knows his eyes are red, the wolf simmering just below the surface of his skin. Jim moans and runs his hands up Ross’ arms to wrap them around his shoulders and pull him in to kiss. Ross keeps his thrusts slow and deep, low growls coming from his chest as he feels the tremors inside Jim get stronger. 

This is a timeless moment for both of them, this calm before the night and the things that will come. 

They part, mouths still joined by a web thin filament of saliva. Jim is watching him, his blue-green eyes perfectly clear and as still as a well. Ross smiles down at him, and feels Jim’s wings come up around them both, enfolding them as they make love and keep the darkness at arm’s length for one for one more day and Ross rests their foreheads together, speeding up as he feels himself reach the point of no return. 

‘I love you.’ he breathes and Jim’s dimples flicker. 

‘I love you.’ His words are barely spoken but Ross can hear them. 

When they come together, it is with finality. This is where fate has brought them and neither of them are going to question it. 

***********

The sun sinks below the horizon in the blood-red sky and they wait. Soon enough they hear the sounds of creatures that last slithered through the world before there was any concept of earth and its inhabitants. 

Ross shakes himself, dew drops flying from his coat as he growls. Alongside him stand the other wolves, their eyes burning like live coals. They throw their heads back and howl as one, his new pack where they are all alphas.

Next to him are the rest of their group, Jim by his side as he always is. He glances down at Ross and Ross gets a glimpse of too sharp, too white teeth as the bat in Jim’s hand ignites into flames, the wood burning away to reveal the sword underneath. He spreads his wings and leaps into the air and Ross watches as he joins the flight of angels coming in overhead, fallen and heavenly host all together to fight the behemoth that is now visible on the horizon. 

On the ground they feel the reverberations of those things that run, that crawl and that hop. These are the foes they are waiting to battle and Ross snarls and bounds forward, feeling the earth shake under his paws as he goes to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the REM song.


End file.
